


Pack it in

by epersonae



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Even for Taako, Mind Control, Non-consensual but non-sexual nudity, Other, Post-Canon, Revenge, Suicidal Thoughts, Taako is cruel and petty in this one, Using Charm Person for Bad, Wizard Duel?, a lot of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 22:46:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12592204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epersonae/pseuds/epersonae
Summary: The return of a dress. An arcanist fails a save. Revenge doesn't taste particularly sweet.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set right after the Day of Story and Song.
> 
> Refers to events of [before tomorrow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12153147). I've linked the dress in the story, although it's a white dress instead of the black in the picture. (It's a cute story that doesn't deserve what I did to it here.)
> 
> I don't even know what to say about this one. It just kind of happened, and I mostly blame @hops and Katie. Sometimes good things happen in the discord, sometimes it's this.

He's getting packed up to leave the moon and part of getting packed, of course, is throwing all of his clothes into boxes. There's no point in being tidy, just slam all those bad boys in there. Then he sees [the dress](http://heavenlygrl.tumblr.com/post/161245309341), and he remembers. Because now he remembers everything.  _ That fucking bitch _ , he thinks. Fucking with my mind, this whole fucking time.

He laughs. It's an ugly laugh. A petty laugh. He's feeling petty today.

He looks around, but nobody's there. Good. He doesn't need his better nature today. Fuck that.

He leaves the half-packed boxes, the clothes still hanging in the closet of the room she "gave" him. Like she could give him anything after taking everything away. He heads up the elevator, out onto the quad, strolled right across the lawn to the big dome, still a mess of shattered glass and twisted metal. He's pretty sure she's there, still trying to be  _ Madame Director _ . 

And of course she is. She's leaning on her staff, and she looks tired, but fuck that, and fuck her, and he's walking right up to her. Her eyes are wary, which damn right they should be. 

“Hey remember this?” he says, tossing the dress at her. “Because I sure do.” She's still looking at it, quizzically, obviously trying to figure out what he's getting at, when he casts. Charm Person, hell, that worked for him even when he had half his mind gone. “Why don't you try that on for size, Creesh?”

She blinks, slowly, her eyes blank, her jaw twitching. She's trying to resist and she can't, Jeffandrew may have called her the most powerful arcanist but he's got her now, and doesn't  _ that _ feel good. 

She's taking off all of her robes, all that pomp and circumstance, all that  _ blue _ . At least she has the good grace to blush, not that it stops her, not that even  _ her people _ , all those faithful Bureau employees who had no idea what a liar she was, they can't stop her. Brad, standing next to her with his damned clipboard, trying to push her clothes into her hands. Carey, flipping across the room, pulling at the dress. Killian rushing up, crossbow in hand, like she's going to do what? He casts Gust of Wind, then Thunderwave, pushes them all back, away, get away from this, away from them.  _ They can't protect you anymore, not from me.  _

She's putting on the dress, and it doesn't hang quite right on her now, those years did something to her figure. Those Wonderland fucks were good for something, at least somebody could take something from her too. But even with 20 extra years, even with trembling hands and dark circles under her eyes, even then she carries herself with dignity and he hates it. He's got her charmed and it's not helping, it's not  _ enough. _

With a flick of his wrist he casts a Wall of Force, none of her goons are going to break his stride as he leads her outside. She follows, silently, in that fucking dress, the one he picked because he thought Magnus would like it, because he cared that they were happy. The one that she wouldn't wear because even then she was too cool for school…. 

Magnus. Of course. 

A little prestidigitation, boost his voice, no one on this entire godsforsaken moon will escape hearing this. 

“Maaaaaaggie, I've got something for you….”

He comes out of the cannon dome, with Avi, his head tilted to the side like a dolt. Like a fucking sap. 

“What the fuck, Taako?” And then he sees her, he can tell that Magnus sees her, the way his eyes go wide and his face flushes. “No, seriously, what the actual fuck?”

He jogs over, he actually breaks into a run to meet them. Yup, still a sap. 

“Taako, what are you  _ doing _ ? What did you do to Lucretia?”

He ignores him, turns to her. 

“Hey Lucy,  _ friend— _ ”

Magnus grabs him by the shoulders. 

“You can't do this.”

“ _ I  _ can't do this? Oh, I can't reach inside that twisted little head of hers and make  _ her _ feel something, make  _ her  _ dance to  _ my  _ tune? Oh, Mags. Maggie. Magnus. Doll. Babe. Just watch me.”

She's looking at him blankly, her features soft, waiting. Waiting for a word. He remembers, he remembers too much. He stares out past her, out to the edge of the moon. He's not going to fucking cry, that's bullshit. She doesn't even deserve that. 

“Go play with Magnus,” he says, dismissively; he's done with this, he's done with her, it's not even fun anymore. She walks away from him like an automaton, and that's good, it's great, let Mags fight with his damn conscience. He keeps staring out at the edge of the moon. 

“There they are Mr. Merle sir,” and of course, the kid, fucking Highchurch, more softies who’re more than willing to let bygones be fucking bygones. 

“You've got to give her a good hard slap,” says Merle, and he's not looking, he's not acknowledging any of them, but he hears the crack of a hand across her cheek, and he can't tell if it's the kid at full strength or Magnus at five percent, but either way she lets out a cry like a wounded animal. And good, good for her. Good for all of them. 

He can't look at them. He walks to the edge of the moon, the spot where a dog might run right off the damn thing. It's a long way down. Not so long a fella couldn't levitate, but a fella might not want to. 

“Don't.” A single word that's not  _ Davenport _ . He huffs. “I'm serious, Taako. She's not worth it. What happened to us, it's not worth it.”

He wants to scream,  _ what do you know about it _ , but then again, if anyone got a shittier deal than he did, it's their fucking captain, turned into a living toy, a mockery of himself. 

“She fucked us over,” says Davenport. “And as soon as the cannon are working properly, I'm headed down there and onto a boat and if I never see her again it might be too soon.”

He sighs. It's raining, somewhere below where they are. 

“I gotta finish packing.”

“You do that.”

He claps Davenport on the shoulder. 

“Thanks, my dude.”

Davenport laughs. It's that same bitter laugh he feels in his own chest. 

“Nothing to thank for. Let's just get the hell out of here and get on with it.”

They nod at each other and walk away from the edge, avoiding the others, each on their own path away from there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun (?!) fact: doing damage to the subject of a Charm Person spell will cause the spell to end. Technically, it's if the damage is done by an ally of the caster, but this is sort of an edge case. 
> 
> I should note that if you haven't read my other stuff, I am RIDE OR DIE IN THIS HOUSE WE LOVE AND RESPECT LUCRETIA and also I don't think Taako needs to forgive her, and also this is definitely too far. (I'm keeping it out of my series continuity for a reason.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @bluecoloreddreams left a comment and well, yeah. Thanks I guess.

Her face hurts. That is, honestly, the very first thought in her head when she comes to. Her face hurts, even if Magnus’ slap was only at five percent. And then, she’s cold. She’s tired. Angus and Merle and Magnus are all looking at her with anxious concern. Her employees, her loyal confederates are all running towards her, now that the Wall of Force is dropped, now that they’re no longer flung back by magical wind and thunder. Brad flings a robe at her while Carey holds out her staff.

For a second, with all these eyes on her, she considers collapsing, curling up on the ground, maybe crying, maybe just going to sleep until she isn’t tired anymore. Whatever she did, it isn’t worth this. It isn’t worth any of this.

But she sees them: Taako and Davenport, talking, way off at the edge of the base, and sure, the guilt and the anxiety are there, like they always are, but also…. There’s Angus, with his big eyes behind the glasses, improbably tall Brad and his clipboard waiting for a word from her, Carey’s tightly coiled stance ready to come to her defence. And beyond them, below them, a whole world: alive. Twelve planes: whole. And entire multiverses put right.

Two can certainly play at Prestidigitation, she thinks. She throws the robe on over the dress — she did sort of like that dress, once, even if she hadn’t had the confidence to wear it — takes the staff, cracks her neck with a sharp pop that acknowledges her age, and clears her throat.

“Taako.” Her voice carries through the base and everyone comes to a stop. Except Davenport, who ignores her and keeps walking. That’s just fine; she doesn’t need his forgiveness. Taako slows, just deliberately enough to be obvious, and then turns on his heel. His red-rimmed eyes blink lazily at her.

“Creesh? Or is it Madame Director? I don’t know, it’s too hard to  _ remember _ .”

She strides toward him, and suddenly she's calm. This is just Taako, and maybe she was intimidated by him when she was 19, but she's not 19 anymore, not by a long shot. 

“That was uncalled for,” she says. He doesn't look her in the eye. “Feel free to hate me for the rest of your natural life, and it's going to be a lot longer than mine, so you'd better get comfortable with how that feels” — she takes a deep breath — “but do not ever come to me like that again.”

Now he looks at her, and she's steeled herself against that vitriol, she's ready for it this time. 

“How dare,” he says. “How  _ dare _ you talk about  _ me _ not coming to  _ you _ with magic. After what you did to my head, to all our heads?”

She keeps walking towards him, and now she smiles.

“I did it, Taako. It’s done, and I have apologized, and there was  _ never _ any malice, there was only love. There has never been anything but love on my part. And you, you took that as me singling you out, like you were more special than all that.” She waves her arm: at all the people behind her on the base and all the world beyond. “They’re all  _ dust _ , aren’t they, Taako? All of them? Is Angus dust, Taako? Is Kravitz dust? Would you rather we had ruined or abandoned this world? Can you look me in the eye and say that?”

He flinches and he frowns and he steps towards her again, and she can hear a sharp intake of breath from behind her, Magnus probably, but it doesn’t matter. Their eyes are locked on each other.

“Lup,” he says, a single word with all the venom in his soul.

“This is not about that. You think  _ this _ ” — and she throws off the robe, ill-fitting skin-baring 60-year-old dress be damned — “is a fitting response? To that? If you would like to challenge me, if you would like to  _ fight _ with me: we can do that.”

His eyes narrow. She shifts her grip on her staff, and it’s not part of the Light of Creation anymore, but it’s her staff, and it glows with the magic that flows in her. They’re almost toe-to-toe now, and she’s ready. 

“If you wanted to be blasted off the moon,” she whispers, her voice clear and steady, “all you had to do was ask.”

His nostrils flare and he raises his wand.

“This is for her,” he says. 

“You tell yourself that,” she replies with a laugh. “And then maybe when you’re picking yourself up from the Astral Plane you can ask her if that’s true.”

From behind them, then: “Hey hey hey, let’s not get carried away here, you two.” And Merle pushes himself between them. He squints at Taako. “You, put that wand away and get outta here; you’ve already done enough today.” Then he turns to her. “Lucretia, honey, it’s fine, just put some damn clothes on and we can get back to work. Plenty to do without getting into fights.”

She chuckles, and takes the robe from Magnus, who is a ridiculous shade of pink now, and while flinging it aside had been suitably dramatic, she is a little cold now.

“You still want that fight?” she asks.

He looks away. She sighs.

“That’s what I thought.” She stares at him, stares through him, and she’s still sorry, she still wishes it had all gone some other way. “Don’t do that again. If you want to take me, you know where to find me.” She turns, back to the work that still needs to be done, and leaves him standing alone in the grassy quad.


End file.
